The Only Thing We Have To Fear
by pdljmpr6
Summary: Five things Eliot isn't afraid of and one thing that terrifies him. Eliotcentric series of oneshots.
1. Dying

**A/N: **I'm a review junkie. Don't judge, enable. Hehe. I love 5and1s. I mentioned on my livejournal that this one was coming up quite a while ago, and it's finally here. I'm gonna post them each as mini-chaptorys. Unbetaed, try to enjoy it anyway... -pj

* * *

_**Dying**_

**I. We've All Gotta Go Sometime**

"Beg me for your life," Alenichev spat, waving his gun wildly.

Eliot lifted his head slowly , wincing unabashedly at the pull the movement put on his bound hands and shook his hair out of his face, ignoring the way the world swam before him.

"Beg?" he repeated, raising the eyebrow over his un-swollen eye, still managing to look dangerous in his amusement, despite his bruised and bleeding face.

Alenichev looked uncertain for half a second before narrowing his eyes.

"I vill kill you chertov amerikanskiĭ."

The corner of Eliot's mouth kicked up in a disturbing relative of a smile, revealing blood-stained teeth.

"Oh, you better," he dipped his chin, "because if you don't, you're gonna end up wishin' you had."

Eliot kept his eyes on Alenichev but all around he could hear the other men murmuring in Russian. He smiled again when he realized what they were saying.

"What? You don't really think this si the first time I've been strapped to a chair with a gun in my face, do you?" he scoffed and Alenichev's tough façade faltered slightly.

Eliot paused and glanced down at his bare chest.

"Although I have to admit, the bomb thing is new."

He looked back up and saw Alenichev had backed off to be next to his goons, all looking a mixture of fear, admiration and disbelieve at a man who looked death so casually in the face.

"So you gonna do it?" Eliot looked impatiently at the gun in Alenichev's hand. When the man didn't move, Eliot tsk'd, holding in a shout of triumph when the binds on his hands gave way and feeling rushed back to his fingers.

"Word to the wise chertov russkiĭ mertvetsa," his eyes flashed and Alenichev's widened in fear, "don't wound what you can't kill."

He leapt out of the chair, knowing the bomb was pressure sensitive, and dove for the gun. If he was going to die, he was sure as hell taking a few of these guys with him.

* * *

_TBC- Next one is 'Heights'. I might even post it today...__  
_


	2. Heights

**A/N: **This is me avoiding writing the next parts of 'Always Had a Reason' because I'm SO sure I bit off more than I could chew with that one...So don't forget to tell me how much you approved of my procrastination methods! Enjoy! -pj

* * *

**_Heights_**

**II. Don't Look Down**

"You've gotta me kidding me!"

Eliot walked up to Malone, a kid even younger than Eliot himself, flicking a hand rolled cigarette to one side.

"What is it?"

Malone turned wild brown eyes toward Eliot and pointed one hand up toward the sky, up the side of the house – the castle – to a gold encrusted Gothic Revival gargoyle that sat atop a spire on the roof, illuminated by a full moon.

"We're supposed to retrieve _that?"_

Eliot glanced up at where he was pointing and shrugged, pulling off his jacket. He caught sight of some discoloration on the sleeve and swore.

"Damn guards," he shoved the jacket toward Malone's face, "do you know how hard it is to get blood out of leather?"

Malone stared at him like he'd lost his mind and all it's pieces, one hand still stretched out toward the rooftop.

"Spencer, man, that thing is like…150 feet off the ground."

Eliot put down his jacket, still frowning, and turned an irritated look toward his 'partner'.

"Yeah, I know," he snapped and grabbed at the rigging and rope Malone seemed to have forgotten he was carrying.

"What didja think this was for? Decoration?"

Eliot rolled his eyes at the young man's stuttering response and pulled the rigging up onto his shoulder for use on the decent.

"Watch and learn, boy."

And he did. He watched the notorious Eliot Spencer free climb a 19th Century French Castle for 153 feet.

"Damn," Malone whispered to himself, "dude takes badass to a whole new level."

* * *

_TBC- Idk if Eliot can free climb...but if he can't he could probably glare the building into submission so...yeah. Either way.__  
_


	3. Women

**A/N: **Haha, I think my A/N last chap got more reviews than the fic!! I find that hilarious and awesome. Enjoy! -pj

* * *

**_Women_**

**III. Charm School Boys**

The boys whispered animatedly amongst themselves, stifling their uproarious giggles with dirt-stained hands smacked over their mouths.

"Do it Eliot, go on."

"He's too scared."

Eliot rolled his eyes and pushed short brown hair out of his eyes, "I ain't scared."

With that he stood up and, handmade card in hand, slowly walked to the front of the class, hoping his hesitance came across as swagger.

"Ms. Brown?" He said quietly when he reached the front of the room.

Kelly Brown, a five foot eight and blonde size six with bright green eyes and a huge smile was a dazzling temptation to most men that crossed her path. Even eight year old farm boys with large blue eyes and friends prone to 'games of truth or dare'.

"Mr. Spencer," she turned toward the voice and smiled brightly, making Eliot's heart skip a beat, "what can I do for you?"

"Um, I just, uh," he sputtered and his cheeks and ears turned bright red when the snickers at the back of the classroom grew slightly in volume.

Kelly threw a warning glare toward the boys and then smiled gently again at her student.

"Go ahead Eliot, what is it?"

He shifted on his feet and pulled a paper heart made of construction paper and glitter from behind his back.

"This is for you."

The woman gasped slightly, taking the carefully crafted paper heart with wide eyes.

"Oh my," she gave him a tender smile, "Eliot that's so sweet."

Eliot stood to his full four feet of height and puffed out his chest.

"So will you?"

She blinked and looked back at Eliot, "will I, what?"

The boy got a crooked grin on his face, "meet me for dinner tonight at 8."

"Oh, um," she sputtered and smiled, "Eliot, that's very sweet but-"

"Is that a 'yes'?"

"It's a-" she pursed her lips and paused, smiling indulgently, "you're a very charming young man Mr. Spencer, but it wouldn't be appropriate."

Eliot frowned, "why not?"

"I'm your teacher, Eliot."

He shrugged, "so? I like you anyway."

Kelly laughed softly, placing the valentine carefully in her desk drawer, "I like you too, Eliot, but not in that way I'm afraid."

Eliot furrowed his brows thoughtfully, "oh."

Ms. Brown nodded, patting him on the shoulder, "try me again in twenty years, though."

Eliot nodded slowly, and then raised his head, bravely jutting out his chin.

"Thanks for letting me down easy Ms. B."

She laughed. "You're welcome, Eliot."

He gave her another crooked smile and slinked back to his seat, ignoring the whispered questions of his friends as he passed.

"Well? What happened?"

"What did she say?"

Eliot slid into his chair and pulled out a paper and pencil.

"Ya' think Ms. Brown likes burgers and fries? Or is she probably on one of those 'diet' things?"

The boys' mouths dropped open and their eyes grew wide and before long whispered comments of admiration and disbelieve were circulating the room.

"He did it!" "She said 'yes'?" "That's so cool!" "No way." "Spencer is _the man_, man!"

Feeling Ms. Brown's eyes on him, Eliot slowly looked up from his paper to see her raised eyebrow and glare were tempered by a small smile.

Eliot met her eyes and a large smile spread slowly across his lips.

And he winked.

* * *

_TBC- Oh, how adorable is he??__  
_


	4. Flying

**A/N: **Enjoy! -pj

* * *

**_Flying_**

**IV. Make Sure Your Trays are in the Upright Position**

Eliot had come to terms with his short stature many years ago. But it wasn't until a retrieval job gone awry in Japan that he was actually _thankful_ for it.

Eight dead Yakuza in his wake and a very rare first edition copy of Shakespeare's unfinished works under his arm, he weaved through the crowded airport at a brisk but not-quite-attention-attracting pace. He paused briefly in a doorway alcove and waited as the booted, hurried, _very distinctive_ footsteps of the men who were after him passed by.

He glanced around after a few moments and re-emerged with the populace, his hair pulled into a ponytail and his jacket inside out so that it was a respectable black blazer instead of a white catering coat.

Seeing a plane boarding the last of it's passengers to his left, Eliot slipped toward the gate and schooled his features into something less 'kill or be killed' and more 'all business, listen to me or else'. It turned out they were pretty much the same look.

"Hello sir, how may I-"

"There is a Japanese dignitary on this flight being transported under an assumed name," Eliot interrupted in flawless Japanese. He flipped up the lapel of his jacket to flash his Air Marshall badge, "I've received information that his identity has been compromised. I need this plane in the air five minutes ago."

The woman's eyes widened, "I don't-"

"You don't need to, but we _do _need to get going," he glanced over his shoulder to see four men in suits enter the boarding area and nodded at the flight attendant, before he slipped down the corridor to the plane. The frazzled looking woman followed quickly behind.

"You the last?" he growled urgently once they were both on the plane.

"Y-yes," the woman sputtered, moving out of his way.

Eliot nodded and started pulling the door closed, "tell the pilot to go. Now."

The flight attendant was still giving him those wide, worried eyes, but she nodded and disappeared toward the cockpit. He promised himself he would thank her properly for her help later.

A few minutes later the plane was taxiing across the tarmac and out onto the airstrip. A group of dark haired men were rushing after the plane, guns drawn and curses on their lips.

Eliot watched them from his window, growing smaller and smaller as the plane moved away and his heart rate slowly come back down.

He felt the wheels lift off the ground and Eliot sat back, closed his eyes and smiled.

* * *

_TBC- The next one is SUPER long to make up for this short one, and then we have Eliot's one true fear to look forward to...dun dun DUN!__  
_


	5. Small Dark Spaces

**A/N: **The next part, I guess it's not as long as I thought it was. lol. But anyway, enjoy! -pj

* * *

**_Small Dark Spaces_**

**V. Things That Go Bump**

His brothers said he was crazy. His mother would have killed him if she knew. His father gave him a long look and a flashlight and told him to 'be careful'. His little sister grinned and asked if she could have his room.

It was summer vacation and Eliot was determined to go through with it. He was a good fighter, his brother's had made sure of that, but he was small for his age and had been told repeatedly that his freshman orientation would most certainly include the customary up-close and personal introduction to the inside of a locker.

Eliot had argued vehemently that he would break the nose of anyone who tried it. But the thought of spending even one moment in the in the dark, small confines of a school locker made him shudder and break out in a cold sweat.

After the third time waking from nightmares Eliot decided something had to be done.

His mother was going out of town for the weekend with friends and he knew it would be his only chance.

Friday afternoon he bid her goodbye, finished his chores and went to his room to gather his backpack and things he had prepared. Then he went to find his his father, who was out in the barn fixing one of the horses' stall doors.

"I'm goin'," he said simply.

His father had looked up at him with the blue eyes Eliot had inherited and given him a short, approving nod.

"Your mother'll be back at 6 on Sunday."

Eliot nodded, knowing that was his way of saying 5pm Sunday was his deadline and left the barn by the back door, trudging slowly across the field of grazing land to the old abandoned shed that set back against the tree line on the other side.

His palms grew sweaty as he approached. He gripped his pocket knife in one hand, his combination padlock in the other.

In his backpack was a pillow, blanket, flashlight, three 'summer reading list' books and enough water and peanut butter sandwiches to last a week.

But his footsteps slowed gradually the closer and got and ten feet from the shed he stopped altogether.

Summer wind whipped at his brown hair and the sun danced on the horizon.

It would be dark soon.

He stared at the old shed for several minutes without moving. No one was really sure what it was for, it had gone unused since his father was a child younger than Eliot himself. The building was only four feet squared. A decrepit old structure made of warped, weathered gray wood. But it was sturdy. There was only one window on the south wall, so he knew not much light would get in, no matter what time of day it was. Eliot pressed his hands to his sides to keep them from shaking.

If he was going to turn back, now was the time.

And to be honest, he thought about it.

But it wasn't in Eliot to admit defeat. Never would be.

With a deep breath, Eliot bit his lip, squared his shoulders and stepped walked inside. Immediately he threw his bag to the ground and shut, latched and padlocked the door before he could change his mind.

Now enveloped in darkness, he felt around with his hands, shoving back against the corner with his hands wrapped around his flashlight and his knees up to his chest.

For the first hour the beam of light from the flashlight shook violently when it swept across the walls of his self-made prison.

He draped himself in his blanket when the temperature dropped with the sun. He didn't allow his eyes to close even once that night and tried to convince himself it wasn't because his heart was thumping so hard against his chest he thought he might bruise.

The next day Eliot's flashlight didn't shake so much and he distracted himself by reading a book, jumping with a startled squeak every time a branch scraped against the tin roof.

When the sun went down the second night his flashlight went out. And without the pale beam of light to guide him the walls seemed to be edging just a little closer than they had been before. He muttered quietly to himself that that was 'impossible' and 'ridiculous' but his breath was coming much too fast and he started to get light-headed.

Eliot slept that night, but not on purpose.

He woke up late the second day and spent most of his time staring at the padlock on the door. But his hands weren't trembling anymore if he thought about riding horses and being outside his stomach settled enough to eat all the sandwiches.

His oldest brother came and got him at 5pm that evening and Eliot was cleaned up and ready to meet his mother by 6:05.

She hugged him and smoothed his hair and looked at him funny, asking why he looked as if he hadn't slept at all while she was gone.

Eliot grinned easily and distracted her with the announcement that he'd finished the books on the 'Summer Reading List'.

When he started high school that Fall Eliot was suspended the very first week for breaking a kid's nose.

* * *

_TBC- So, who's curious about what Eliot is afraid of...?__  
_


	6. Losing

**A/N: **Well, here's the last part. This is what Eliot fears. lol, at least in this little verse of mine. Glad to have another fic under my belt and I hope it lives up to the hype. lol. I made that hype. Enjoy! -pj

* * *

_**Losing**_

**VI. The One Thing That Terrifies Him**

He's been screaming threats for hours now. His throat is hoarse and feels like its bleeding, but he keeps screaming. The chains on his wrists and ankles are digging so far into his flesh they can't be seen for the blood, but he continues to throw his whole weight against them. His chest aches and explodes with pain every time he takes a deep breath but he pulls them in just the same.

"Let them go! Its me you want!"

So far there has been no response, he isn't expecting one this time and is surprised when the disembodied voice of his captor starts bouncing around the cement cell.

"It's too late."

Eliot feels his heart seize painfully in his chest and his eyes snap over to the video screen on the wall. Just like before he sees the camera pan across Hardison, Sophie, Nate, and Parker and he finds it hard to breathe.

But this time is different than before. This time their heads are slumped over and their bodies limp. Even on a grainy black and white feed he recognises blood soaling into their shirts.

When he screams again it bubbles up from the depths of his soul, from the deepest, darkest places in his mind where even _he_ knows not to venture. And a rage so strong and big and ugly takes hold that he doesn't recognize himself.

Eliot doesn't know how the chains came loose. Doesn't remember finding and _breakhurtkilling _everyone he laid eyes on in that god forsaken building. He certainly doesn't know how he was able to get back to the offices in the state he was in. But he knows most of the blood on his clothes is not his.

He's lost count of what hurts. It all hurts. But what really gets him, what _scares_ him, is that the worst pain isn't from the broken bones or the deep lacerations or the dark bruises. He recognizes those pains. Knows what to do to heal them.

But this blinding, shredding, heartsick phenomena he feels on the inside, the one that starts over his heart and throbs out to the edges of his being is the one he can't handle. It's sharp and black and _frightening _because he's never felt this way before.

Never lost something he truly cared about before.

Eliot stumbles into the office, half concious and barely alive and he doesn't care. He lets himself go.

Only...

He doesn't meet the floor as painfully as he expects and that is unexpected. He isn't sure what to think when small, gentle hands start to carefully assess his wounds and quiet, worried voices start talking.

He recognizes those voices.

Pure stubborn determination forces his eyes open because why would fate play so cruel a trick on him?

"It wasnt real Eliot. I'm so sorry. It wasnt real."

He closes his eyes again. They're still covered in blood, but their eyes are open and teeming with worry. He isn't sure if he can beleive it, but he likes to think they would never lie to him about something that really mattered.

He feels blackness and oblivion starting to pull at his jagged edges and doesn't want to fight it. The pain he recognises is starting to get stronger. The gentle hands are still there with the quiet voices, and he slurs heavily when he speaks.

"Don't ever scare me like that again."

Nate, Sophie, Hardison and Parker all freeze instantly upon hearing the first coherrent thing Eliot has said in full minutes.

"Never. Never again, Eliot. We promise."

Eliot allows himself to slip away into the black, that sharp, unknown pain lessening just a little.

* * *

_END - hope you guys liked, let me know what you thought!__  
_


End file.
